


but now my girl is dancing, she's dancing with somebody else

by kittymannequin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Music, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-07 10:45:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13433055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymannequin/pseuds/kittymannequin
Summary: Lately, you can't shake the thoughts of her from your head. Lately you remember every single thing about her, every little detail from the freckle above her lips to the way her hair used to shine first thing in the morning when you'd wake up with a fistful of it in your face as you wrapped yourself closer around her sleeping form.Lately everything seems to remind you of the girl you let go all those years ago, the girl you once hoped you'd spend your life with.And you wish you'd done everything differently.





	1. i can't help but reminisce; when you're gone colours seem to fade

“Hey, Lex.” Octavia greets as you plop down in the booth next to Raven, making Anya grumble while she scoots a little further, now slightly squashed next to the wall. “What’s up, miss hotshot lawyer? Finally found some more time for your friends?”

A chuckle escapes you and you give her the finger with a smile.

“Save some of that for later O, the night is still young.”

“Finally wrapped up the big case, huh?” Lincoln asks, grinning at you as he orders a round for the table. “We gotta celebrate tonight!”

“Yeah!” Raven hollers from beside you, promptly leaning into Anya. “You’re gonna carry me home, right babe?”

Anya rolls her eyes but you see the small smile that tugs at the corners of her lips and it warms your heart seeing your sister this whipped over a pretty girl. You know she’s got a ring hidden in a drawer somewhere back at their shared apartment and she’s just waiting for the right moment to pop the big question. Any day now, you think.

It makes you think of a time not so long ago, just last year really, when you once considered buying a ring yourself. You’d gone by the jewelers every day, glanced inside every now and again until one day you finally plucked up the courage to go inside, only to walk out a couple of minutes later when you remembered… You had no one to give a ring to, not anymore.

Maybe, a long time ago, if you’d tried harder, if you’d given more, maybe- Maybe you would be happy now.

But you remember then, as your mind flashes back to some distant memories, you were so caught up in your own world back then, back when it mattered, when you still had her by your side. You’re reminded of every day you didn’t text her back, every time you saw your phone light up with her name and that beautiful, bubbly face on your screen and you still ignored it and went back to your papers as if didn’t matter.

You know now it did. It still does.

“Lex!” The sound of your name snaps you out of your thoughts and you look at Octavia before glancing around the table as everyone stares at you slightly confused. “You ok?”

“Yeah, sorry, just spaced out.” You mumble as the waiter comes by with your shots. “Let’s drink.”

“Hear hear!” You all shout and raise your glasses.

Anya clears her throat, making you all groan out collectively.

“Shut it you morons, I’m trying to make a toast!” She glares at each and every one of you at the table before turning to you, leaning awkwardly over the table as she stares at you. “To my lil’ sis. I’m glad your dreams have come true.” She says, smiling softly at you even though you see that knowing look in her eyes, a trace of something only you can recognize that’s always there, ever since…

Ever since Clarke.

You nod and bring the glass to your lips, tipping it and downing it in one quick swing as Lincoln signals for yet another round and your mind glazes over with another memory.

You see it as vivid as ever, just as you do almost every day lately.

Clarke and you, first two years in college with your hopes and dreams right there, in front of you, ready for the taking. She made you feel like you could take on the world, and yet, she made you feel so humbled at the same time.

Every coffee break was special with her, every lunch date was sixty minutes of pure laughter and oddly satisfying yet strange science facts. Every night with her was like coming home. Her smile still shines in your eyes, the way it would light up her whole face and made her eyes shine brighter than the clearest sky. The images of her dragging you to corny little bars and making you dance waft through your mind and you’re reminded how you’d never felt better and more free than when you were with her and you still don’t know where it all went wrong.

But that’s a lie. Of course you know.

“You wanna dance?” Raven nudges you, shaking you away from the memories, grinning at you. “You do still remember how to do that, right?”

“Maybe later, Rae.” You murmur but push yourself out of the booth anyway, giving her and Anya enough room to shove past you as Anya’s hand lands on your shoulder softly.

You excuse yourself even though you’re not going to go and dance and you head towards the bar, intent on getting at least two more shots in you in short succession, in hopes you can numb your brain enough to stop remembering all the things you’ve done wrong.

It’s still seared in your mind how you told her she was just getting in the way, how it just didn’t feel the same - even if it did, and it always will - and that you needed time and peace and for her to not be there. You don’t think you’ll ever forget the way her eyes watered when she asked you if you still loved her and you told her you did, and you really, _really_ did, but you think you’ll always have the sight of her crying burned in your mind from when you told her you just didn’t want to fight anymore.

Feels like forever when you finally reach the bar, shoving and pushing past the crowd of moving bodies and as you flag down a bartender and ask for two shots of tequila you don’t miss the look she gives you, the way her eyes glide over your form and she gives you a small wink, something that Clarke used to tease you about endlessly.

You still remember it like yesterday when she walked up to you and told you she’d never seen eyes as green as your and she just had to either buy you a coffee or take you out to dinner ‘cause she’d never forgive herself if she let a girl like you get away. You’d never laughed so hard in your life but you knew then and there you were a goner.

In the end, it was you who let her go.

As you down the first shot you cringe, reaching for the lime and biting into it, grinning when Clarke’s pouty face comes to find, from the morning after some frat party where you both drank too much tequila and she couldn’t stop grumbling ‘cause she was hungover and you weren’t. When you down the second shot the bartender gives you another look but you don’t wait for her to come over and offer you something other than just drinks, you just turn around and head back to the booth, your heart already hammering in your chest when you’re reminded of a small jealous fit Clarke once threw at you when some girl slipped you her number at a kegger.

You don’t even realize what song is playing, too lost in your memories, until you reach the booth and see the look Octavia is giving you, the same look  you’ve seen from all your friends over the years, one you know all too well. But then the lyrics finally come through to you and the ache in your chest swells and it feels like your whole body is hurting now, and you think that maybe coming out tonight wasn’t such a good idea after all because you just can’t seem to stop thinking of Clarke, she’s everywhere and anywhere and god damn it - it’s been years.

Years since you pushed her away and told her you need to focus on your studies because you have a future that you need to think about, goals and plans you have to fulfill, years since she cried her heart out at your doorstep when you told her you just don’t see her in that future anymore, years since you lost the best thing you ever had.

“Octavia, don’t-”

“She needs to know, Linc.” Octavia says as she moves out of from her side of the booth and walks over to sit beside you, making you scoot to the side a little as you stare at her. “Lex… Clarke, she-”

You raise a hand, downing one of the many new shots on the table.

She was their friend too, you know that. They talk about her, of course they do, and you pretend like you can’t hear them and it doesn’t bother you but it does. It does and you wish you could just go back in time and change everything. You’d do it all differently.

“She doesn’t wanna know, O.” Lincoln says from the side and you glance at him, frowning.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” You say, feeling the slur in your words. Damn, you used to be able to hold your liquor better. “What are you talking about anyway?” You try and reach for another glass but Octavia places a hand atop of your own, making you turn back to her.

“Lexa.” She takes a breath, just wringing her lip between her teeth until you raise an eyebrow at her. Or at least you think you do. “Clarke, she.. She’s back in the city. She moved back her a week ago.”

Of all the things you thought you’d hear her say, that wasn’t even an option, not anymore, not since you made sure it couldn’t be. You thought you’d left everything that had anything to do with her back in college, back when you were still a happy twenty-two year old girl full of dreams and ambitions and so in love with the best girl in the world.

“What?” You manage to mumble out, staring at Octavia as you reach for her shoulders, grasping at them with shaking hands. “What do you mean she’s back? How, I, I thought she was going to stay in, in, Toronto? Wasn’t she in Toronto? Why is she back Octavia, when- How?”

The words tumble out of you like a hurricane, messy and shaken and rushed as Octavia all but breaks in your arms from how hard you’re shaking at her. You don’t even realize it until Lincoln places his hand on your arm, prompting you to calm down and you see Anya and Raven move from the dance floor back to your booth.

“What happened?” Raven asks, glancing between you and Octavia with a worried look just seconds before realization hits her. “You told Lexa, didn’t you?”

“She has a right to know!” Octavia cries out and somehow they all seem to miss it when you grab two more shots, downing them one after another as you let your head fall in your hands.

What if you see her? What if by some chance the universe decides you’ve done at least one good thing your life and you actually deserve to see her maybe once more?

You snag one more shot as they all seem to argue over the fact that Octavia just told you what she did and down it quickly before you try to push yourself up, trying to move past all of them but you really don’t get much further than a couple of inches before all of their attention turns to you and Anya grabs your hand, prompting you to meet her eyes.

“Lex, where are you going?”

“Home.” You mumble instantly, unable to stop the shaking in your voice as you speak again. “I need to, I, I need to get home.”

“Lex, you just got here.” Octavia says, reaching for your hand. “Come on, you can-”

“I need to get home.”

To your apartment. The apartment you used to share with Clarke all those years ago, the apartment where you can still see paint smudges here and there on the floor, where you know exactly which dent Clarke made and which was your own doing, back home where you still, even after all these years, clutch the pillow on her side of the bed even though it’s lost her scent years ago and sleeping in that bed’s never been the same since.

But you need to not be here anymore, you need to go home and pull on the last thing you still have of hers, her old and worn college hoodie which she forgot about when she packed her things days after you told her you didn’t want her there anymore. You still need her though.

You think you always will.

The ride home is quick and quiet and you’re thankful that Anya and Raven seem to be content to just let you sit and doze in the backseat. The alcohol is so strong in your body now, you can’t even push yourself out of the car without Anya’s help so she takes you up to the apartment and gets you safely inside. You’re already getting out of your clothes while she makes sure you have water beside your bed and when she tells you she’s staying you barely manage to stop yourself from yelling at her, aware that she only worries but somehow you manage to convince her that you’ll be alright and you’re capable enough to take care of yourself.

It’s really far from the truth, you realize when she leaves and you can’t even take off your jeans by yourself. It takes far longer than you’d wish and you stumble and snag your foot against the couch then hit the wall weirdly with your arm, sure that it’ll hurt tomorrow when you wake up but - you manage to get out of your jeans and your shirt, already searching for the hoodie, tears filling your eyes when you finally find it deep in the back of your closet.

When you pull it over yourself and stumble into bed, you take a couple of sips of the water Anya brough there before propping yourself up against the headboard and letting yourself just sit and cry there in the dark of your room that’s swirling and tumbling around you.

And all you can think of is that you wish, more than anything, that you could just take back the time you lost and do all the things you wish you had, when she was still there. When you hadn’t pushed her away because of some false beliefs and stupid, fucking idiotic reasons.

You wish you could just go back in time and tell yourself that taking Clarke out to that stupid little, corny diner around the corner is a better idea than spending your night ignoring her calls and mulling over books. You wish you could take all your words back because you never meant them, not a single one but back then - back then you thought it would make it easier. And for a little while, it did.

And then you realized what you’d done and it was already too late and Clarke was gone.

You’re not sure how you manage it but in your drunken state you somehow search around for your phone, grinning like an idiot through your tears as the screen lights up and you open up your music app, trying to find the song, that one song that she always had you dancing to.

You remember now, even through your drunken daze, when you danced with her to this song for the first time and she leaned up and murmured up in your ear, making your heart thump in your chest.

“ _T_ _his’ll be our wedding song, Lex.”_

As the music finally starts and you set the phone aside, pulling the fabric of the hoodie closer to yourself and crying into it, you wish you could, if not go back in time then at least live in the memories. They’re everything to you now, and the best you have left.

 

 _I am at ease in the arms of a woman_ __  
_Although now most of my days I spend alone_ __  
_A thousand miles, the place I was born,_  
_When she wakes me she takes me back home.._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, there's a part two.


	2. i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been through a lot but it's finally time to come home.   
> You're just not sure if it's time to face the old wounds.

It takes a while, a little more than you first thought it would but eventually you manage to settle down and feel at home again. 

You’re back after four years away and somehow everything seems completely different even though you can see that nothing much has changed. A new little shop here and there, new paint jobs on a couple of buildings and different, new faces around you. But the streets are still the same, even if they do feel a little different to you.

You don’t tell anyone about your decision to come back until you’ve already settled in your apartment, a lovely little cozy thing that has everything you really need, a brightly lit room with a large bed to sprawl over, bathroom with colours you ought to change the first chance you get, a small kitchen which you know you’ll never use because you really don’t want to burn this place down and a warm living room to hang around. It doesn’t feel like home for a while, not until you finally tell your old - and somehow new again - friends that you’re back and get an impromptu visit from the lot of them. 

Their laughter fills the rooms that have been so silent, and when they leave you still somehow feel their presence around you even as you put away the dishes and smirk at the silly housewarming presents you’ve gotten from them. 

One short glance through the window at the dark night sky and the lights of the buildings around you makes you think of the one person that you know is out there, somewhere, unaware that you’re back. A little, tiny part of you wishes she knew.

Four years later and you still think of her in these moments of utter peace and quiet, moments where it’s just you and your thoughts and nothing to stop you from going back to memories you’ve long since pushed far back and locked away. You’re not really sure if you’re still trying to protect yourself or just can’t face them again without breaking down. 

Probably both.

It’s been three weeks that you’ve been back when Octavia breaks down on a Friday night and tells you that Lexa knows. She apologizes, again and again, tells you that she knows it’s none of her business, knows it was never about her or any of your other friends that you somehow still share with Lexa, but you can’t help but feel completely indifferent to the whole thing. 

“Oh. Alright.” You just say back and when she realizes that’s all you’re gonna say she goes back to sipping on her drink and leaves you at the bar for a couple of minutes as she goes to the bathroom. 

Later that night you come back to your place with a pretty girl whose eyes are nothing like the ones you dream of every once in a while but she’s sweet and warm and soft and you tell yourself it’s okay to feel a little more than cold sometimes. 

In the morning she tells you to take care and you kiss her goodbye and when you roll over and close your eyes, willing sleep to come, all you see behind your closed eyelids is green, green, green.

* * *

 

Work keeps you busy, mostly, and it’s not often that you catch yourself thinking about her when you’re on the job. But it’s a fairly calm day today, you’ve done your rounds, you’ve scrubbed in on one surgery and performed another one, you’ve told a little girl that she’ll get to live a long and happy life and by the time you make it to the cafeteria your mind is buzzing. 

A flash of green catches your eye and you shake your head when you see the woman’s face, cursing to yourself for your weakness. You grab a sandwich and a bottle of water and head over to the nearby park, find yourself a bench and you plop down, content to just sit in silence and mull over the rest of your schedule for the day. 

It doesn’t take long for her face to appear in your mind. 

You still remember it so clearly, as if she were standing right there before you, clear as day, and you’re sure you could just grab a notebook and a pencil and you’d sketch her just like you used to. Those plump lips, the curve of her nose, the sharp lines of her jaw. Sometimes you remember her laugh, other times that adorable frown appears in your mind but more often than not, you remember the cold, stern face you last saw before you left. 

Most of all though, you remember her words and the sound of her voice, unwavering and stinging, when she asked you to leave. 

It’s still hard to remember it, to think about her and not think about the things she’d said, even though sometimes you wish you could just erase those things and remember her the way you knew her, the way you loved her. As the best thing to ever happen to you.

Sometimes you still catch yourself playing that song you used to make her dance to and you reminisce about the times she twirled you around and held you in her arms, and then you play pretend for a little while. Sometimes it works and you see a house, kids and a dog and her gentle arms waiting to embrace you at the end of a long day. And sometimes it doesn’t work and you go back to putting walls around your heart and remembering how to breathe.

You’re thankful for the buzz of your phone that brings you back from your thoughts and you smile softly at the message you received.

**Finn (3.22pm): Hey princess! All settled and doing okay?**

**Me (3.33pm): Hey Finn, yeah it’s all good, I’m settling in fine and my old gang made sure I feel welcome and okay. You alright?**

 

You don’t bother waiting for his answer though as you put the phone back inside your small bag and munch on your sandwich.

Finn… Finn was good to you. Good for you, some would say. But Finn was never Lexa, and you’re not really sure if anyone could ever be her. Not her, per se, but rather someone whom your heart will love as much as you once loved her.

As much as you still love her.

He checks in still, here and again, and you’re glad you decided to remain friends even if you did move across the country and you’ll probably never see him again. It makes you think of Niylah and Luna and you wish you could have made a life with either of them, you wish you could have been enough but alas - you’ve given so much of yourself to Lexa and nothing’s ever felt the same.

It’s not to say you can’t live without her.

You just wish you could have lived a life with her instead.

* * *

 

“Come on Clarke, just for tonight.” Octavia pleads, begs you really, and her puppy dog eyes and those pouting lips make it too hard for you to say no. 

“Yeah Clarke, come ooooon.” Raven joins in and you know you’re royally fucked. 

Denying one of them is somewhat possible if you’re persistent enough but denying both of them at the same time? Impossible. You’ll just have to suck it up, pull yourself together after the long day you’ve had and go grab a couple of drinks with them instead of just chilling at home drinking wine and watching tv. 

“Fine.” You say, rolling your eyes, much to their excitement. “But I’m crashing early because I have an eighteen-hour shift tomorrow and I need to sleep at least eight hours, okay?” 

Octavia nods and Raven’s already got her jacket in her hand, heading for the door. 

“Ok, let’s go!” 

You’re out in a matter of minutes, laughing to their corny jokes and trying to help them decide which bar you’ll be grabbing drinks at. Raven texts Anya and Octavia texts Lincoln and soon enough you realize you’ll be the fifth wheel and you frown and pout at them until they promise to buy all the drinks and get you a taxi home ‘cause apparently none of them plan on not drinking. Something about celebrating Raven’s promotion though you’re pretty sure at this point they’ll use any excuse to get drunk. 

It’s fun, you realize as you down your third shot, grinning at some dad joke Raven just told before you push yourself up to head to the bathroom. You can feel eyes on you, a pretty bartender staring at you but your mind decides to make her dirty blonde hair brunette and you have to shake your head to push the image of Lexa out of your head. 

When you come back from the bathroom you tell them you’re heading home and you manage to say no to their pleading and pouty lips and soon enough you’re in the taxi, staring at the city and the twinkling lights around you as you lean against the window and let the thought of pretty green eyes and soft brown hair lull you to sleep. 

It’s easier to fall asleep when you finally stumble to your bed, and for the first time in a while, you sleep dreamlessly and it’s a relief and a disappointment.

* * *

 

Of course it happens when you least expect it.

It’s been two months since you’ve been back, on a completely normal thursday morning that you’re coming back to your apartment from another eighteen-hour long shift. You’re tired, sleepy and a little irritated because your car is in the shop and you have to walk back to your apartment when you’d probably already be in bed.

The walk itself isn’t even that long and you’re already near your apartment when you finally see her.

There’s nothing special about the moment, no music in the background or slow motion and time freezing, but there is something different than anything you’ve felt so far, and yet, so familiar. A feeling in your chest, so intense and so sudden that it feels as if your heart is trying to burn through your ribcage and the longer you stare, the more breathless you feel.

She looks exactly like you remember her, if only a little older, a little more serious. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun atop her head and yet it still looks classy and sophisticated and you remember her trying and trying for hours upon end to get it to look that way. You guess she finally learnt how. You can’t really see her eyes, not from across the street and not from the way she’s sitting with her side turned to you, but you do see the sharp lines of her jaw that you spent so many hours lavishing with soft kisses. 

You stare for a minute or two, right until the light on the crossroad turns green again and before you know it you’re rushing down the street, making sure she hasn’t noticed you. 

By the time you get back to your apartment you’re wide awake, eyes glistening with unshed tears and your head filled with nothing but memories of the day you had to go back and pack your things as she stared at you silently from the bedroom you once shared with her.

Your chest feels constricting, rib cage too small to keep your heart full of anger within. 

You’ve spent every day since then hoping you’d see her again.

For what reason? You don’t even know yourself. 

There’s a craving inside you, a need of sorts, something that’s making you think about her, that always seems to blur your thoughts until all you can see is green eyes and soft, plump lips. 

And then there’s the anger, the pain and the rage and all the things you never had the chance to shout. You want to see her just so you can spit your words at her and watch them slap away at her heart just as her words did years ago. You want to hurt her, so  _ so badly,  _ you need her to understand just how much she’d broken you.

But amidst the rage your heart always seems to calm down whenever you tell yourself that she had her reasons and that maybe, just maybe, you should let the anger go. You still haven’t managed, even all these years later, but one thing you have managed. 

You’ve managed to understand. Maybe it’s a step to forgiving, maybe a step to forgetting. You’re not sure yet which one it is.

* * *

 

The next time you do see her, it’s been three weeks and this time she sees you too. And  **then** it happens - the movie moment, the time frozen and standing still, that one glimmer in the time-space continuum that is a second shared between two people who  _ could have been _ . 

It’s a silly little gallery opening, nothing special, just a small studio-like space that you’ve stumbled upon or you think one of your patients gave you a pamphlet, you can’t really tell, but the moment you enter the gallery you can almost feel there’s something different in the air. And as if right on cue, she steps out of one of the two spacious rooms and glances in your direction just long enough for your eyes to meet. And it’s enough.

You curse the moment Octavia told you she wasn’t coming because if you’d actually managed to get her here you’re sure she would have insisted on drinks before and maybe, just maybe, you would have had more time. A day, two, maybe weeks, maybe months. Maybe forever until you see her again. 

It’s not what the universe wanted, it seems, and before you can really react she’s already excusing herself from the conversation she was in, glass of wine in one hand as she makes her way over, slowly, steadily, her eyes never once leaving yours. They’re so wide, so open and vibrant and green and - and god you’ve missed her eyes.

“Clarke.” Your name sounds like a plea to the heavens when it slides off her lips and for a moment you’re reminded of all the moments you made her scream it, made her moan it in the middle of ecstasy. “Hi.” She murmurs and it’s quiet, timid even, so far removed from what you remember being her that it actually makes you take a step back in shock.

“Lexa.” Her name tumbles off your lips and with it, a weight slides off your shoulders. It feels like it’s been forever since you’ve said her name without bile rising in your throat. 

She’s awkward. Goodness, she so awkward. So much that it’s actually adorable, in the sweetest, dorkiest of ways, and as you watch her fidget and babble and get lost for words around you as she adjusts her shirt or pushes her hair away from her face for the uptenth time, you remember the girl you met back in high school, the girl who got you with a simple “hello.” You remember the warmth she elicited in your chest, the swarms of butterflies that overtook your belly whenever she was near, the chimes and bells in your head whenever she’d take your hand and entwine your fingers. 

For a couple of moments, a few minutes here and there, you forget about the woman you have a past with and there, in front of you, stands a girl you’d like to get to know better. But then you look deeper in her eyes, every once in a while catch the sight of her lips or the sharp curve of her jaw and you remember everything.

And the past always seems to come back to haunt you as your heart clenches uncomfortably and you have to sit down to calm yourself.

“Clarke are you alright?” She asks, soft and caring, reaching out to place her hand on your leg.

“I can’t do this, Lexa.” You say as you push her hand away and stand up to leave. One of the staff gives your coat back and you feel a little bad because you’ve paid no attention to the art and you’ll have to come back another day but right now your heart is crying, screaming, thrashing in pain in the cage of your ribcage and you need to not be where she is. “I… I can’t do this.” 

“Clarke, please!” She calls after you as you rush out and the sound of her voice makes all the memories come streaming back.

“No!” You shout right back at her, turning around to meet her eyes. “You don’t get to ask for anything, Lexa! You don’t get to say please! You don’t get to be nice and sweet and charming because you broke me! You hurt me so,  _ so hard!”  _

You don’t even realize what you’re saying until the words are out and she’s standing a few feet away from you, tears brimming in her eyes as she shudders and cries out.

“I know!” She only yells and you can’t fight the hurt that overcomes you. “I’m sorry Clarke, I’m so fucking sorry!” 

As the tears spill from her eyes, you feel your heart ache again. But it’s not same pain you’ve felt all these years. It’s not the pain of her harsh words or her icy stare, not the pain of letting go or forgetting, not the pain of hating her. 

Your heart aches because of her tears and you hate it for being so stupid again. You hate and yet… It’s inevitable.

You shake yourself and take a couple of steps closer just so you don’t shout again, making sure that she can hear you.

“I can’t do this Lexa, not again. I… I get it, okay? It took me so fucking long even think about why you did it, why you pushed me away when you spent years telling me you’d never let me go. It took me so long to finally understand what possible reasons you could have had. And I understand now, I really do.” 

“Clarke-”

“I can’t do this, not again. Not yet. I understand, Lexa, but I can’t forgive you. Not… Not yet.” 

She slumps a  little, her shoulders sagging as she finally looks into your eyes again.

“Goodbye Lexa.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well heck, i've made this a three-chapter story.


	3. but when she wakes me she takes me home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the last chapter.

 

You’ve seen her. You’ve seen her once, twice, a couple of times in fact and you’re certain she’s seen you too even though your eyes have yet to meet but she turned her head, hurried in her steps and away from you so you turned away as well and pretended not to have seen her, letting her go over and over again. You owe her at least that much.

It’s become unbearable, knowing she’s around and so close, walking the same streets as you, watching the same people, seeing the same things. It’s unbearable and yet - it’s more intense than anything you’ve felt in the past couple of years. 

Every time you see a flash of blonde hair, you look up and stare intently, hoping it’s her and somehow every time you get disappointed. But then you see her again two more times in passing, just a blur in motion really, and it’s exactly enough to keep you going.

It’s distracting, you admit it. You’ve not been the same at work ever since Octavia told her Clarke got back and you don’t even bother hiding it. You know not to expect anything, god if anyone is the least deserving of a second chance it’s you, and yet you still can’t help the tingling in your chest or the itching in the tips of your fingers whenever you think about seeing her for longer than a couple of seconds.

Of course, it happens sooner than you expect it and this time you forget about reason, you say to hell with it and you don’t even bother apologizing politely before you’re already making your way towards her.

It doesn’t go well.

It doesn’t go well at all and you should have expected it. You should have remembered that you’ve hurt her, that you were the worst you could have possibly been, that you watched her cry and plead and sob and you said nothing and yet - you approached her and somewhere in the back of your mind the word maybe made a home. 

And as you watch her walk away you feel the pain hit you like a freight train, the pressure in your chest grow until you think it’ll rip you apart and tear you open. But when you get back home and you replay and replay the short conversation in your head, you remember that she said  _ yet _ and the Pandora’s box inside you opens and there it is. 

Hope.

* * *

 

She’s unpredictable, you remember. You remember it so well.

Flashes of surprises pop here and there in your mind, little gift boxes every once in a while hidden somewhere around your apartment, a bouquet of daisies just because she thought of you. 

Sometimes you still don’t understand yourself.

How could you have let that go? 

You know why. You remember the pressure, the hurt, the pain… The chaos and noise inside your head and the sentence ‘it’s your duty Lexa’ ingrained in your brain. It took so long to finally make yourself understand that you don’t have to sacrifice yourself for a dream your parents had. A dream they still have. 

You’ve long since realized what you’ve lost when you let go of Clarke but despite that, that sentence haunted you even years later, and even now you feel the pressure looming over you. 

But you’re stronger now and you know what - who - matters most. If only you knew it years ago.

You’re reminded just how unpredictable she can be when she shows up for drinks one Friday night even though Anya assured you Clarke had said no a couple of times. 

You’re sitting at the table, in the middle of a semi-heated discussion about some case you’ve worked on with Lincoln when Anya gasps beside you and you’re not used to that happening so you’re drawn to the sound immediately, following her eyes as she stares at the bar entrance. 

Clarke stands there like a vision, something you’ve dreamt of night after night for years now. 

When she makes her way to the table you’re already downing your drink and getting ready to just get up and leave but when she plops down she smiles slightly at you and mumbles how you should stay and Anya gives you a look, along with Lincoln, and instead of heading out you sit back, feeling fairly strange and uncomfortable and yet kind of glad because she’s there and you can’t shake the giddiness that’s come over you.

You know you don’t really deserve this, not in the least bit, but you still glance at her every once in a while, from the side of your eye, and whenever your eyes meet hers there’s something in your chest akin to hope, something that you remember feeling the first time you met her all those years ago.

Something you believe you’ve lost the right to when you told her to leave. 

And yet, she glances at you every once in a while as well, eyes meeting your own and it sends you into a whirlwind, makes your head spin and heart thump in your chest. 

It’s not much, but the night is better than any you’ve had in years, even if she does leave after a couple of drinks and you haven’t really spoken more than two words to her the whole evening.

* * *

 

You don’t see her for a while after that night and you don’t know if you’re sad or thankful for that. Some part of you is dying to see her and you’re pretty much ready to just call Octavia and ask her to give you Clarke’s number because all you really want to do is meet up with her and apologize, over and over again, and you want to tell her all the things it took you too long to realize. 

But there is a part of you that is happy she’s not around because you know it’s a privilege whenever you do get to see her and you firmly believe that if anyone should reach out between the two of you, it’s her. You don’t think you have any right in pursuing anything with her, even if that anything is just the need to clear things up and tell her that you’re aware of how much you’d hurt her and that you’ll never let yourself live it down. 

Things don’t work like that though, and you finally understand now.

It may have been years and she may understand why you did the things you did, why those awful words left your mouth, but she has every right not to forgive you for the rest of your lives because you cannot even fathom how much you’ve hurt her and you know it’s far more than anyone should have to endure.

So you decide that you’re a better person now and you won’t pursue anything, you won’t ask her to listen, you won’t be that girl that tries to justify their wrongs so she can have peace of mind. 

If Clarke decides to ever forgive you, you just have to hope she’ll let you know. And then maybe,  _ just maybe _ , you could hope for something more than just being two strangers who used to share a life.

* * *

 

It’s another month before you see her again and as life would have it, it’s another one of those silly moments where you least expect something so life-changing to happen. But then again, isn’t there a saying about that, something about never knowing when a moment will change your life? 

If your appearance is anything to judge by, you were definitely not expecting it to happen today. 

It’s just another lazy Sunday but you’re coming home from your morning run, this one not as early as the ones you usually take because Anya and Raven had dragged you out to drinks last night and somehow you got caught up in conversation and the drinks just kept on coming and you ended up getting home well into the night. 

You barely look presentable, with your hair pulled up in a ponytail, your black sweats and favorite hoodie on, bottle of water in you hand and your breaths ragged and heavy as you all but storm inside your usual coffeeshop, waving at the familiar barista from the door. She’s already nodding at you with a grin as you peruse their small selection of pastries from afar before taking in a couple of deep breaths to steady yourself as you finally walk  over.

“Lexa.” She says, smiling at you. “The usual?” 

“Yes, please. Thank you. I’ll be-”

“At your table.” She finishes, grinning at you. “I know.” 

You nod and mouth a silent thanks as you head back out to the terrace. You love the morning air, how fresh and vibrant everything around you feels on mornings like this, and as you take in the sight around you you can’t help but smile at the warm sun and smiling people sitting around you and enjoying their morning coffee. 

And then you see her and she turns just in time to meet your eyes and suddenly the sun isn’t nearly as warm as her smile and nothing could possibly be as vibrant as the blue in her eyes. You really can’t help the way your heart picks up again, speeding up merely at the sight of her.

You think she’ll just brush you off or pretend like she doesn’t see you, even if she is smiling at you and it’s something you’ve missed maybe more than anything you remember of her, but then she turns from the street and towards to the coffeeshop, towards you and suddenly you don’t know what to do with yourself. You shift in your seat, once, twice until she finally reaches you and stands beside the table a little awkward, hands coming to rest inside her jacket pockets.

“Lexa, hey. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Clarke, hi. Yeah I uh, I come here every day, they manage to get my coffee right and they-”

“Your usual, Lexa.” The barista from earlier choses that specific moment to show up and place your order on the table, smiling at you. “Anything else for you?” 

And you don’t really know where it comes from, how you actually remember to form the sentence and ask the question but you smile at the girl before turning to Clarke, gesturing to the seat across from you.

“Uh no, nothing for me but Clarke, uhm, would you like to join me?” 

She contemplates for a moment, stares at you then the table and then at the barista that seems to shift uncomfortably in her spot before Clarke’s eyes land back on yours and you can almost feel the way your heart thrums at the warmth you think you recognize in them.

“I guess I could. One latte for me, please?” She looks to the barista with a gentle smile, the one you remember her always reserving for bartenders and store clerks and baristas, people who you know could always use a kind smile. It’s one that made you love her more, you remember. 

For the first few minutes, it’s absolutely excruciatingly awkward. You don’t speak too much, just exchanging a couple of pleasantries that two people who know each other usually would and if Anya could see you now you’re sure she’d laugh at you. But Clarke fills up the silence with her plans for the day and she chuckles a couple of times at your small quips and it feels more familiar than it has in a long while. 

And you realize just how much you miss this, how much you miss her. 

She initiates the conversation, asks you how you’ve been all these years and when you start talking, albeit hesitant at first, she settles more comfortably in her seat and she listens, intently, her smile soft and small on her lips. You remember how good a listener she was and just how immersed she could get in someone’s storytelling when she leans on her elbow and completely misses the moment the barista comes back out with her drink until it’s placed in front of her and she flashes the girl a bright big smile. You don’t miss the way the girl blushes and frankly, you’re not surprised even in the least bit. 

When you’re alone again, all her attention seems to come right back to you and she gives you a smile as well, one that’s more familiar, more… Intimate. Suddenly you have no idea what to do with yourself and your heart seems to be having a concert of sorts, along with the butterflies in your stomach. You haven’t felt this way in years, not since you’d first met Clarke and it doesn’t help that Clarke’s voice is as sweet and lovely as you remember it.

At some points she takes mercy on you, or at least you think she does because you’ve grown a little fidgety and you’ve caught yourself stumbling over your words more than once, much to her amusement, so she talks a little herself, tells you where she’s been, what she’s done, just general things that two people catching up would ask one another. She tells you about med school and how it got even harder in later years, how she hasn’t really slept properly in months because the whole moving back home thing has got her completely overbooked and the only time she can find to be alone with her thoughts are rare days like this when she can just walk the streets she remember and grab a cup of coffee without her pager going off. 

The conversation’s easy after that. It’s familiar and still somehow new and you find yourself excited more than nervous just thinking about the fact that you’re sat there with Clarke right across from you, willingly and almost… Happily? You even lose track of time listening to her and some of the shenanigans she’s already managed to encounter with the gang since coming back that it kind of surprises you a little, and you don’t even try hiding your disappointment, when she pulls her bag from the chair beside her and stuffs her phone inside, chuckling at something you’d said before she tells you she has to go.

“It’s been really nice, Lexa.” She says as you both stand up and you almost fail to notice the tiniest movement in her, just a tremor really more than movement, that feels a lot like her wanting to hug you and you’d give anything to feel her embrace again but she covers it up by taking a shaky step back. “We should do this some time again.”

“We should?” It slips out before you can stop yourself and you almost cringe, barely managing to suppress it. “I mean yes, Clarke, I’d really love to do this again.” 

You’re sure she doesn’t miss the tone of your words, the way your desire to spend time with her practically drips from them. When you think about it later as you busy yourself around your kitchen, preparing the food for your monthly lunch with Raven and Anya, it hits you how you don’t really have any means of getting in contact with her and all your hopes of anything like that morning seem to evaporate in a second.

That is, until Raven and Anya arrive and Raven casually lets it slip that Clarke’s asked for your number with that silly grin on her face and you can’t help the giddy feeling that overcomes you for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

She doesn’t text you right away and you’re afraid she never really will. You’re starting to think you’ll become like those people who used to be good friends, used to know each other until they started saying they’ll call and then they never did and that was it. And you don’t want the last conversation with her to be it. Maybe you don’t deserve it but damn it, you still want so much more. 

You’re actually already contemplating begging Anya for her number when you get a text message from an unknown number one Friday night a couple of weeks later and then another one just a minute after telling you it’s her. 

And you don’t even hesitate a second to reply, grinning like an idiot when you hit that send button. She only takes a couple of minutes to text back and soon enough you two are talking about whether or not you’re coming out for drinks tomorrow. 

You knew you were going the moment she asked you, even though you were certainly more than unsure before she sent you a text but if she’s coming along as well and you have a chance to spend the night in her company, you’ll take what you can get. 

You’ll pick up the tiny crumbs and mold them into larger pieces until they can all fit together and you can say you’ve finally managed to build something new out of old, broken carcases. 

Needless to say, the night out is good. It’s full of laughter and inside jokes that only the core of your friends knows, it’s filled with hidden glances that occasionally meet and stupid little smiles that you don’t even bother hiding after a while. So she makes you happy - as if everyone didn’t already know that.

It’s not until you’re all getting ready to leave and you’re hailing a taxi that Clarke approaches you and grabs a couple of minutes alone with you outside the club and you can already feel yourself too excited to function properly. It feels like your eighteen again but you don’t care at all. She doesn’t hold your hand though, doesn’t even touch you at all, and she keeps her distance from you, shoulders never touching, fingers never bumping together. 

But what does happen is her telling you, just as you see your taxi arrive, is that she’s ready to forgive you now. And you think you feel your whole world light up for that one singular moment as the words leave her mouth. 

“Are you… Really?” You ask her, uncertain and a little unable to believe her. Things like this take time and you’ll gladly have her take all the time in the world if it means you’ll get to be around her more, in any form. 

“Yes, really.” She says, smiling softly at you and finally reaching out, her fingers splaying over your arm as she squeezes slightly. “I don’t know how long it’ll take me to forget but I do forgive you. I’ve made my peace with everything and I think you deserve forgiveness. I’d like to start building our friendship again.” 

You don’t know what to say and you don’t really get a chance to as the taxi finally pulls over in front of you and Clarke’s touch on your arm disappears, replaced by her soft smile and a tiny, gentle nod. All you do manage is to nod back, wide-eyed and flabbergasted, and the last thing you remember is seeing her lips widen and her eyes light up when she waves at you as you slip inside and close the door behind you.

It may not be what you had, you know it’ll never be like that again, but it’s a start. And a big one.

* * *

 

You start living for the nights out.

She comes out with the group as much as she can, you know her shifts are all over the place and it has to be hard for her to work around everything the way she does but whenever she does come join you guys for drinks, she’s got that sweet smile on her face and you talk, more and more each time, and it all feels like coming back home and still so new. 

Anya tells you not to get your hopes up, and Lincoln does the same, warning you that it’s been a long time and you’re both different people now and things might never feel the same again but you don’t tell them how your heart thumps every time you catch her looks at you or how silly your stomach feels when she says your name. You’ve always loved the way it sounds coming from her. 

You feel better. So much better that work picks up and you start getting back in your groove, start being the capable and remarkable lawyer that you studied so hard to become but you know better now, you’ve learn from your mistakes, so you don’t let your work consume you and you find time in every day to rest, to enjoy and to live as you always intended to. 

You finally feel so good that you actually tell your mother off when she tries to pressure you into taking a case you absolutely refused to and when your father threatens to cut you off you tell you there’ll always be a job for you somewhere and you don’t need their trust fund if they’re going to try and make you be who you’re not. You don’t know how exactly but word reaches Clarke - you’re pretty sure Anya and Raven had something to do with it - and when she texts you one day, asking you out to coffee, you spazz out so hard you manage to drop hit your head against the cupboard you’d just opened and show up for said coffee with a bandaid in the middle of your forehead. 

It’s easy, you realize as soon as you sit down to join her and she smiles, reaches for your hand and gives it a light squeeze before settling in her seat and asking you about your day. Eventually you tell her all about your discussion with your parents and you can almost feel the weight fall off your shoulders when Clarke tells you that she always believed in you. 

Somehow, coming from her, it feels that much more important. 

Soon enough, there’s a certain confidence brewing inside you, something that you’ve not felt in ages - except when work was in question - and you feel yourself brave, stupidly brave to ask her about every little thing you’ve wanted to know ever since she’s been back. And she tells you about college, tells you all about her residency and her exams and how happy her mother was when she decided she’d be coming back. She tells you about the girl she thought she loved until you came up in one conversation and there wasn’t really much more point pretending, and your heart thuds sadly at the look in her eyes. 

“I guess I kind of already knew though,” Clarke says, shrugging her shoulders. “It would always be you.” 

And then she smiles, that one adorable, teasing smile she hasn’t given you ever since before that one last big fight, that smile you haven’t seen in years, the one that always had you melting at the spot and this time it’s no different. 

“It’s always going to be you for me, Clarke.” You guess you could just let the bravery run its course while you still have it. God knows courage is hard to obtain these days. 

“I know Lexa.” She says and bites her lip, glancing away. “I know.” She murmurs, barely loud enough for you to hear and you almost think you’re imagining it but then she turns to look at you again and her cheeks are dusted pink, just the way you remember them being the first time you told her she was beautiful, and you really believe you could live in this moment all your life.

You don’t stay much longer after that. 

Clarke tells you she has a shift in two hours so you offer to take her home when you leave the coffee shop, and to your surprise, she says ok. It’s not awkward though, or stilted or strange. If anything it’s tentative, the atmosphere between you. 

You want to reach out and touch her hand, maybe just brush your fingers against hers but it takes you so long to actually muster the courage that she clears her throat a little awkwardly and tells you that you’re there when you reach an old brick building. You know it’s been renovated a couple of years back and the apartments were a little too expensive for you back then but you know it’s close to the hospital and really, a perfect location for her.

“Text me when you get back?” She asks, looking at you with warm eyes as she shuffles in her spot a little nervously, something you haven’t really seen since you two were just freshmen who never saw each other before. 

“Of course.” You say, smiling bright and wide at her. 

“Well…” She trails off and you just watch her, patient and hopeful and when she seems to finally come to terms with herself she steps closer to you and reaches up, arms circling your neck as she tugs you close and presses your bodies together. 

This is what home feels like. 

Before you even realize what’s happening she’s pressed a soft little kiss to the corner of your lips and scurried off inside, smiling and waving at you before she disappears inside the elevator and you’re left there, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, gaping like a fish out of water. 

And god, does it feel good to be coming home again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this little drabble. Hope you've enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. I know it's not a definite happy ending, but it's implied enough, I believe. 
> 
> Songs that inspired the whole drabble:   
> a) When I was your man - Bruno Mars  
> b) The night we met - Lord Huron  
> c) Arms of a woman - Amos Lee
> 
> And as always, hola at me on tumblr @kittymannequin :)


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